Verner's Pride eBook

Sibylla believed he had purposely flung a shaft at
her. And she flung one again—­not at
him, but at Decima. She was of a terribly jealous
nature, and could bear any reproach to herself, better
than that another woman should be praised beside her.

“When young ladies find themselves neglected,
their charms wasted on the desert air, they naturally
do covet attention, although it be but a brother’s.”

Perhaps the first truly severe glance that Lionel
Verner ever gave his wife he gave her then. Disdaining
any defence off his sister, he stood, haughty, impassive,
his lips drawn in, his eyes fixed sternly on Sibylla.
Decima remained quiet under the insult, save that she
flushed scarlet. Lord Garle did not. Lord
Garle spoke up again, in the impetuosity of his open,
honest nature.

“I can testify that if Miss Verner is neglected,
it is her own fault alone. You are mistaken in
your premises, Mrs. Verner.”

The tone was pointedly significant, the words were
unmistakably clear, and the room could not but become
enlightened to the fact that Miss Verner might have
been Lady Garle. Sibylla laughed a little laugh
of disbelief, as she went onwards with Sir Rufus Hautley;
and Lionel remained enshrined in his terrible mortification.
That his wife should so have forgotten herself!

“I didn’t leave word where I was coming,
and somebody may be going dead while they are scouring
the parish for me. Good-night to you all; good-night,
Miss Lucy.”

With a nod to the room, away went Jan as unceremoniously
as he had come; and, not very long afterwards, the
first carriage drew up. It was Lady Verner’s.
Lord Garle hastened to Decima, and Lionel took out
Lucy Tempest.

“Will you think me very foolish, if I say a
word of warning to you?” asked Lucy, in a low
tone to Lionel, as they reached the terrace.

“A word of warning to me, Lucy!” he repeated.
“Of what nature?”

“That Roy is not a good man. He was greatly
incensed at your putting him out of his place when
you succeeded to Verner’s Pride, and it is said
that he cherishes vengeance. He may have been
watching to-night for an opportunity to injure you.
Take care of him.”

Lionel smiled as he looked at her. Her upturned
face looked pale and anxious in the moonlight.
Lionel could not receive the fear at all: he
would as soon have thought to dread the most improbable
thing imaginable, as to dread this sort of violence,
whether from Roy, or from any one else.

“There’s no fear whatever, Lucy.”

“I know you will not see it for yourself, and
that is the reason why I am presumptive enough to
suggest the idea to you. Pray be cautious! pray
take care of yourself!”

He shook his head laughingly as he looked down upon
her. “Thank you heartily all the same for
your consideration, Lucy,” said he, and for
the very life of him he could not help pressing her
hand warmer than was needful as he placed her in the
carriage.